


The Bracelets

by JudyDo



Category: The New York Dolls
Genre: Best Friends, Fluff, Friendship Bracelets, I can’t write New York accents, M/M, dont smoke, honestly very cheesy, it’s not really a ship they’re just bffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 12:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17425967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudyDo/pseuds/JudyDo
Summary: David is upset Syl isn’t wearing the bracelet he gave him, and Syl doesn’t understand why.





	The Bracelets

“I see ya aren’t wearing the bracelet.”

        Syl Sylvain stopped when his friend addressed him and laughed. “David, it don’t match this ‘fit!”

        “Sure it don’t,” David frowned, lounging on a couch. He looked up at the ceiling lazily. “I’m wearin’ mine.”

        “Aw, don’t get so upset. I’ll wear it some other day.”

        “You’re supposed to wear it all the time!”

        “David, stop pullin’ my leg,” Syl said impatiently. “I know the moment I put that dumb bracelet on you’ll be makin’ fun of me in front of the other guys.”

        David rubbed his wrist, looking at his friendship bracelet. It matched the one he had made for Sylvain. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it, actually.”

        “You alright? Are you tired or something?”

        David looked at Sylvain, calculating. He opened his mouth, ready to say something disagreeable, but shrugged it off. “Nah, nah. Nevermind, Syl. You’re fine, sweetheart.”

        Syl smiled in relief, starting for the door. “Alright. Listen, I gotta go. Promised Arthur I’d go out with him to get those boots he’s been wantin’.”

        “Right.” David smiled. “Have fun.”

        “Will do! See ya!” Syl headed out of the living room, leaving David alone.

        “Ya, see ya sweetheart...” He smiled with his face.

        But he didn’t smile with his eyes.

 

. . .

 

        “Ya noticed somethin’ off about David?”

        Arthur looked up from the shoe rack. “No. What’s wrong with him?”

        “Dunno,” Syl said, picking up a pair of shoes carelessly. “He was actin’ moody this mornin’.”

        “Huh.” Arthur picked up a pair of bright pink shoes. “What’d’ya think?”

        “I think he’s bein’ ridiculous. All upset just cos I’m not wearing a damn bracelet--”

        “What do you think,” Arthur cut him off with sharply but soft growl, “about the shoes.”

        “Ah. Sorry, man.”

        “It’s fine.”

        “He’s just really gettin’ on my nerve. He’s got no right to be all upset.”

        “Uh-huh.”

        “If he wanted me to wear the damn bracelet he could’ve gotten me a nicer one.”

        “Hmm.”

        “He should know I don’t like jewelry.”

        “You done?”

        Syl took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah sorry.”

        “Pink or blue?” Arthur held up two pairs of shoes.

        “Try ‘em on. But I’d say pink.”

        Arthur nodded in small agreement. “Alright.” He sat down, unzipping the boots and trying them on. Syl smiled encouragingly, trying to get David and his friendship bracelets off of his mind.

        In the end, Arthur got an entirely different pair of boots, white platform boots with red heels and laces. They fit better, he explained in a quiet, nasally mutter. They fit better and besides, he could switch out the laces if he wanted? Syl agreed. And they’d match better with any outfit, not that he didn’t want the pink boots, but they weren’t quite it, they weren’t the pink boots of his dreams. No, he could wait until the right pink boots came along, ensuring this would not be the last outing for boot shopping.

        He was so particular about the shoes, Sylvain noted to himself. Arthur was allowed to be so picky about what fit and what didn’t, but the moment he told David he didn’t like something, Sylvain was the villain.

        “Hey man.” Arthur broke the silence on their walk back home. “You’re still upset about David, huh?”

        “A bit,” Sylvain said. “Don’t wanna bother you none.”

        “Bothers me when you’re so quiet.”

        “Ah.”

        “You know, he didn’t make me a friendship bracelet.”

        “No?”

        “Nah. I think it was something pretty special for him. To make something just for you.”

        “I’m real sorry he didn't make you one. But you wouldn’t have liked it anyways. It’s too ugly.”

        “Sylvain,” Arthur said in his nasally growl. “You’re missing the point.”

        “Which is?” Sylvain said stubbornly.

        “You’re a real special friend to him. And he isn’t always so good at sayin’ stuff like that. You know that. I think he’s tryin’ to tell you that.”

        “It’s a nice gesture! But I ain’t gonna wear it!”

        “Cos it’s too ugly.”

        “Yeah!”

        “Sylvain Sylvain.”

        “What.”

        Syl expected Arthur to say something rude in retort, but instead he started softly laughing. Syl was taken aback. “What? What??”

        “We’re the New York Dolls!” Arthur couldn’t stop laughing. “The whole point of us is we’re so ugly it’s not ugly anymore.”

        “Arthur! I mean--”

        “You’re just as bad at communicating your feelings as David. You’re worried about lettin’ him know he’s a real good friend to you too. But it’s okay, Syl.”

        Syl didn’t say anything for a moment. “Well sure, he’s a special friend of mine, but you’re all my best friends. You know?”

        “I know,” Arthur said. “I don’t care whether or not you wear that bracelet. I know you’re my friend, Syl.”

        “Why can’t David understand that like you, then?”

        Arthur shrugged. “He’s not as clever as me.”

        Syl chuckled a bit. “Alright. Alright.”

        “You gonna talk to him?”

        “Yeah, yeah.”

        “Good. Now start chatting. The Syl Sylvain I know doesn’t like being quiet for so long.”

        Syl happily obliged.

 

. . .

 

        “Hey, David Doll.”

        David’s head perked up. He hadn’t left the couch all morning, instead opting to lie there miserably, flipping through gossip rags he wished he cared less about. “Who’s there?” he asked tiredly. “Bring me a cigarette. Or somethin’ harder.”

        Someone tossed a pack of cigarettes onto the couch, hitting him in the face with them. David cursed, and the person who had tossed the pack looked over the couch.

        “Ah. Sorry David,” Syl said.

        David sighed. “It’s fine. You got a light?”

        “Yeah, yeah.”

        “How’s Arthur’s shoes?”

        “They’re good. Not the pink ones though.”

        “He’s never gonna get those pink ones, huh?”

        “I guess.” Syl leaned over the couch, grabbing the pack of cigarettes, grabbing one for himself and handing one to David. “Want a light then?”

        “Mmhm,” David said, sitting up on the couch.

        Syl pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit both of their cigarettes. Instead of putting the lighter back in his pocket, though, he held on to it, seemingly dangling it in front of David’s face.

        “Rough morning?” Syl said.

        “Thanks to you.”

        “Aw, listen, I wasn’t tryin’ to upset ya.”

        “Sure you wasn’t.”

        “I didn’t get how ya felt about it, David.”

        David took a puff of his cigarette, closing his eyes, seemingly indifferent. “Don’t feel nothin’ about it, sweetheart. Don’t worry your lil’ head about it.”

        Syl frowned. “Then you won’t care none that I threw it out?”

        “What?” David’s eyes flew open. “You wouldn’t! You didn’t!”

        Sylvain laughed at his change in mood. “See, I knew it wasn’t just jewelry to you. It’s not, is it?”

        “Did you really throw it out?” David demanded. “You better not’ve, else I’ll--”

        “Woah, woah, calm down! Didn’t you see?” Syl waved the lighter in front of his face.

        And then he did see it. It took him a moment, sure, but finally his eyes caught on the tangled thread around Syl’s wrist, the colorful beads braided together that he’d crafted himself.

        “Oh!” He felt sheepish. “There it is.”

        “It’s not just jewelry to you, yeah?” Syl said, a knowing smile on his face. “It’s us.”

        “When’d you go and get so smart?” David joked, but Sylvain had perfectly nailed it. It was them. It was exactly everything he felt about his best friend that he couldn’t figure out the words to say.

        “Yeah,” he said kind of quietly. “It’s us.”

        “Aw, David...” Syl frowned. “David Doll, you don’t have to cry!”

        “I ain’t crying!” David protested, but his eyes once again contradicted him. “It’s no big deal!”

        “Aw, shut up.” Syl plopped down on the couch next to him and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. Held tight in his friends arms, David let himself cry a bit more. It wasn’t an unhappy cry, it was a cry of a relief, his whole body acknowledging things were going to be okay, that Syl got it.

        “Sorry I didn’t get it at first,” Sylvain mumbled. “I’m not so good at stuff sometimes.”

        “S’okay.”

        “I don’t like jewelry much. So I guess I was confused.”

        “Mmhm...”

        “But you’re my best friend, David. I didn’t mean to upset you none...”

        “No, no, it’s good!” David pulled away from the hug and smiled at him. “I’m glad. I’m glad you get it now.”

        Syl laughed. “Ya know, for a lyricist, you ain’t very good with words.”

        “For a guitarist, you’re not so good at understanding actions,” David retorted with a grin.

        “Touche.”

        The two continued to chatter, laughing and glad the tension of the morning was gone. “You know,” Syl eventually remarked, “the bracelets aren’t as ugly as I thought they were.”

        “Forget about the bracelet, Sylvain,” David said. “You’re my best friend. You don’t need a bracelet to know that. I was bein’ silly.”

        “Nah, nah, I like them. Cos I know that. And you know that. But now... if either of us ever can’t think right, we’ll know our best friend’s right there. On our wrist.”

        “Terribly schmaltzy.”

        “Hey, you made them, what did you want me to say?”

        “I think that was it.”

        “That’s what I thought.”

        “You know me pretty damn well, sweetheart.”

        “Pretty damn well.”

        He couldn’t say much more about how it felt to him, about how much it meant. But he thought it. He thought it all. And, he thought, he didn’t have to say it. Sylvain’s bracelet was around his wrist and David’s on his own. He didn’t need to explain to him. This small gesture promised that.

        And for the moment, that was all he needed.

 

. . .

 

End

**Author's Note:**

> So uh I wrote this in one day and I didn’t really edit it. I might go back and do it sometime. We’ll see.
> 
> Thank you to my lovely friend (you know who you are) for the prompt idea. I had a lot of fun writing this.


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